


Peter's Other Night Job

by ladyamante



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Prompt Fill, Prompt: Dancer AU, Sex Work, Sexual Harassment, Spideypool Bingo 2019, Stripper Peter Parker, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyamante/pseuds/ladyamante
Summary: Peter moonlights as a dancer. He’s good at it, and the money he makes lets him take care of May, and keep being Spider-Man (his first night job).At this other night job, he meets Deadpool. Fluff ensues.(this is a Spideypool Bingo fill for the prompt 'Dancer AU')
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 476
Collections: Spideypool Bingo 2019





	Peter's Other Night Job

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note:  
> Sorry if it's very rough. It isn't beta read. Enter at your own risk. Also, the formatting is a bit weird, because the sections weren't quite long enough to justify doing separate chapters.

**Polos Can't be Trusted**

Peter groaned when his feet were finally out of the heels and back into his trusty chucks. Thank Thor for comfy shoes. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and waved at Sylvia, the bartender, as he left, who gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

The parking lot was dimly lit in the red glow of the bar’s sign.

He was just debating splurging on an uber to avoid trekking to the subway when someone yelled. At first he ignored it, assuming it was directed elsewhere. This was New York, people yelled shit all the time.

But then the voice got closer.

“Yo, legs!”

He really hoped they weren’t talking to him, for their sake.

“Where you running off to?” the man called out. 

Peter turned to see two customers from earlier. Red polo, and green polo from the group of guys in town for their high school reunion. Peter hadn’t bothered learning their names, because they were all helpfully wearing different colored polos. Also, because they’d been too trashed to care if the stripper they were tipping called them anything other than “baby”.

“Can I help you?” Peter asked, when it was clear they were approaching him.

“Where are going in such a hurry, baby?” red polo asked. He’d been the big tipper, but he’d also left the money at the very edge of the stage so Peter had to lean in close to get it.

“I’m off work,” Peter said curtly.

He was too tired for this shit. He turned to leave, but a hand clapped on his arm, stopping him.

Peter sighed, and turned to see that red polo was holding onto him. Green polo looked nervous, like he wasn’t sure about this, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop red polo either.

“Dude. Let’s not do this,” Peter said, pulling his arm out of the guy’s grip.

“Do what? We’re just chatting, you know, being friendly,” red polo said. He turned to green polo as though for confirmation.

“We saw how you were in there,” red polo continued.

Green polo rubbed at the back of his neck and looked around shiftily.

“We figured you could keep us company.”

This was truly a cursed timeline. Just when Peter thought he was going to be able to get home without incident and soak in some epsom salts, he had to give Chad and Brad over here a primer on consent.

“How about no.”

Peter knew it was naive, but he couldn’t help but hope that would be the end of it.

It was not the end of it.

“Playing hard to get? We already know you want it. Come on, what’s your price?” red polo said. Stepping further into Peter’s space.

Peter was equal parts annoyed and offended at how cliched this guy’s lines were. He sounded like the predator in an after-school special.

Green polo was still doing jack to help Peter, and when Peter tried to meet his gaze, he had the gall to look away.

“I think you’re at the wrong bar, guys. I’m not for sale. Someone needs a lesson in how strippers work. I smile for the money, not because I enjoy your company. You’re gonna want to try the club up the street, they’ve got after hours deals.”

“I think you’re gonna come with us after we paid you so generously,” red polo said, giving green polo a nod, at which point the other man walked closer to box Peter in.

Great, green polo wasn’t conflicted, he just didn’t want to get caught.

Peter’s Spidey senses tingled. He braced himself for a fight, although he really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“You know what, I take back what I said. Don’t bother a prostitute. Clearly you need to go back to sex ed. You see, consent means--”

Peter saw the vein in red polo’s head bulge, but it was difficult to stop the snark. The snark came naturally.

Red polo threw a punch, and Peter let it make partial contact. It would bruise, but Peter was used to much worse as Spider-Man. Green polo made a grab for him.

“How about I help you guys find some entertainment?” Peter side-stepped the next punch. “I’m thinking the boys in blue might have some fun activities for you.”

Before either of the polos could throw another punch, another voice chimed in.

“Pretty sure the pretty boy said no.”

Peter took the moment of distraction to put an end to the fight. One hit to red polo’s chin, and the man was down for the count. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any lasting damage, not that it would be a real tragedy if the idiot lost more brain cells.

Green polo looked like he was going to wet himself. Peter puffed up his chest.

“Still want my company?” Peter challenged.

The man turned tail and ran, but before he could get far, there was a blur of motion, a wet thunk, and suddenly green polo was crumpled to the ground and screeching.

“My leg!”

There was a knife sticking out of the back of green polo’s calf.

“You’ll be fine,” a voice said from behind Peter.

And that’s when Peter remembered the newcomer. He turned around, and saw an odd sight. It was a man in a full body red and black suit complete with a mask.

“Is that leather?”

Leather outfit dude laughed.

That was the night Peter met Deadpool.

**Spiders**

Deadpool plopped himself into the chair next to the stage, and Peter wandered over to him. It was a slow night.

“What’d you bring me this time?” Peter asked, lounging in the chair next to Wade.

Usually Peter didn’t sit down next to customers. He stayed up on the stage, or walked around, but stayed standing. But at this point Wade wasn’t just a customer; he’d become a friend.

Peter popped open the sprite and took a sip. A friend who got him drinks, and brought him souvenirs from trips.

“Well, I went to Kun Ming this time.”

Peter raised a brow.

“It’s this city in China. Nice weather. Finally a place that wasn’t sweaty-balls hot. I don’t know how the other supers do it. I think Stark put air conditioners in their suits or something. I just about died when I went to Texas. Anyway, China right? They had the best sit-down Dominos pizza, with thiccc crust. We’re talking three ‘c’s. I mean Captain America in tight pants--”

“Did you kill someone?” Peter interrupted.

He knew what Wade did. Deadpool was anything but covert about his job; he advertised on myspace for God’s sake.

“Yeah. But he was selling kids to businessmen,” Wade said.

Peter didn’t bother lecturing. He didn’t agree with Wade’s methods, but he understood that Wade at least had a code.

“So what’d you bring me?”

Wade held up a finger.

“Patience.”

“Patience isn’t a present,” Peter said.

“Smartass. This is the thanks I get?”

Wade rooted around in his belt, going through the pouches, muttering something about Peter being spoiled as he searched. Finally, he pulled something from a pouch.

“Aha!”

Peter held his hand out, and Wade dropped a spider into it.

Peter jumped, and dropped it. Wade caught it before it hit the ground.

“What the fuck?” Peter shook his hand, and wiped it on his leg. But it didn’t stop his skin feeling all crawly.

“Rude,” Wade said with mock disapproval. “I get you this kind-hearted gift and you try to drop it.”

“It’s a spider.”

“Yes.”

“You got me a spider.”

Wade held up the spider again, and Peter was tempted to smack it out of his hands, but he didn’t want to touch it. Also, now that he could see it more closely he could tell it wasn’t moving.

“It’s not real, doofus,” Wade said. “See? It’s metal.”

Peter looked at Wade. Then at the spider. Then at Wade again.

Finally, he leaned in to look at the spider more closely. Now he saw the metalwork. It was sort of beautiful if Peter didn’t think about what the spideriness of it.

“Why’d you get me a spider?”

“I saw it and it made me think of you.”

This time when Wade put it in his hand, Peter didn’t drop it.

“Creepy as fuck?”

Wade laughed.

“No. It’s got those long legs for days!”

Peter laughed, and set the spider on the table next to his soda. What were the chances Wade would pick the one creature most meaningful to Peter?

**Who's Wade (I'm a Stripper)**

Peter’s apartment was sparsely decorated. He had photographs he’d taken on his wall, some of Ironman and Captain America. He even had one of his Spider-Man photos, but it was attached to an article about him being a menace. He thought of it as a reminder to always strive to do better. Ned told him it was an unhealthy sign of his perfectionism. MJ called it masochism.

His wall of superheroes did not spark joy necessarily. But he wasn’t about to take it down.

What did spark joy was the little side table in the hall he brought from his old room at May’s that was covered in trinkets and coasters. Little ceramic figurines, candy from hotel room pillows, do not disturb signs with puns, postcards, packets of hot sauce in foreign languages, seashells. They were all things that Wade brought him from his trips.

It was odd to think he only met the man a year ago given how much his gifts have taken over Peter’s apartment.

There were so many that the side table couldn’t contain them anymore. Peter had gotten a bulletin board to pin up the postcards and coasters and out-of-focus polaroids of dogs that Deadpool brought him. 

And when the table and bulletin board couldn’t hold it all, he found the items spilling out into the rest of his apartment.

The novelty rubber duck with a cheese hat was on the edge of his bathtub. Beside his kitchen sink was one of those creepy child ceramic figurines, put there so it could grin at him with its red painted smile when he did the dishes. His fridge had drawings on receipts and taco wrappers done in crayon that showed Deadpool fighting various stick figures, and one notable drawing that depicted Deadpool riding piggyback on Spider-Man.

His bedside table had the bacon-flavored bottle of lube that Deadpool had gotten him as a joke (at least Peter hoped it was a joke because it sounded disgusting). He’d get around to throwing it out some time.

Little by little Wade was taking over the apartment and he hadn’t even come over yet. Peter hadn’t been to his place either. That was just how it was.

He didn’t think anything of it until MJ and Ned came over. They didn’t usually have game nights at his house because his apartment was dinky, and it was easier to go to one theirs. But through a series of events, namely MJ’s apartment being fumigated and Ned getting sexiled, game night happened at Peter’s.

Peter had snacks ready for them on the coffee table. He made room for Ned’s playstation, and frantically dusted. He didn’t have guests over very often, and even knowing it was just Ned and MJ coming over still left him feeling jittery.

  
  


“What’s this?”

Peter looked over to see Ned holding up a little cat figurine, the kind that old ladies collect.

“It’s from Minnesota.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question. Why do you have a creepy cat figurine?”

“It was a gift.”

Ned set down the figurine beside an equally crappily made clown figurine. Wade had eclectic taste.

“What is all this stuff?” MJ asked, making her way over to look at the collection.

“It’s stuff from Wade’s trips.” Right after he said it, Peter realized his mistake.

“Who’s Wade?”

Peter shuffled his feet. What May liked to call his ‘shuffle of guilt’. Ned zeroed in on it right away.

“A friend,” Peter said. Maybe Ned would drop it. “Are we going to start game night?”

“A friend,” Ned repeated.

Maybe pigs would fly.

MJ looked at Peter, then at Ned. Ned looked at MJ. MJ looked at Peter again.

“What? I have friends,” Peter said, crossing his arms.

“Well duh you have friends,” MJ said. “I think Ned wants to know what I want to know, which is why we’ve never heard about this Wade person.”

“He’s just some guy I met,” Peter said.

“Some guy who gives you weird crap,” MJ said, picking up another porcelain figurine. This time, a little Spider-Man.

“This is all from him?” Ned asked.

Peter hadn’t realized how incriminating the side table was until now, and suddenly he was glad that he’d put the rest of the gifts away rather than buying a bigger table, because if this was how Ned reacted to the table, then he didn’t want to know how he’d react to seeing the full extent of the presents.

“He goes on trips a lot,” Peter defended.

“And he brings you gifts,” Ned said. “Where’d you two meet?”

“He came into my work. Why are you being weird about this?”

“I just feel like you don’t tell me anything anymore. And this is just another thing you won’t talk to me about. I’m supposed to be your best friend, but I didn’t even know that you’ve been seeing someone.”

“Woah woah. Wait. I’m not seeing Wade. We’re not dating.”

Ned raised a brow, and MJ opened a bag of chips, and started eating, all while watching Peter and Ned.

“So he’s your sugar daddy?” MJ chimed in.

“What?! No!” Peter squawked. “I’ve had sugar da--”

MJ raised a brow and kept eating chips like this was all a good show.

“That’s not what this is.” 

Peter had a few regulars that liked to give him gifts, and extra money. He’d tried the whole going to brunch with them, or getting manicures with rich older guys. It was exhausting. Not that his job wasn’t, but there was something even more emotionally tiring about having to devote his time and attention to pretending to like one individual person. It hadn’t been worth the effort.

Wade wasn’t like that. He didn’t expect anything from Peter. He just oddly liked to bring gifts.

“Okay, so he talks about my butt sometimes, and he bought me that lube that one time, but that’s just how he is--”

“Lube?”

Peter felt like he was just digging himself into a deeper hole.

“Not just lube. I mean he offered to buy me a dildo, but I didn’t really feel comfortable accepting something so expensive and--I’m making this worse, aren’t I? I need to shut up. Now.”

MJ looked like she couldn’t tell whether to laugh or shake her head. Ned looked like he’d just walked in on his dad naked, and wanted his mind wiped clean.

Peter’s face burned. He wished Reed Richards would hurry up and build a time machine so he could go back and undo everything that just happened.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” MJ pointed out.

Peter sighed. Ned continued to look scandalized and his mouth gaped open.

“It’s not some big secret. I wasn’t trying to keep Wade from you,” Peter insisted. “He’s really just a friend. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner.”

There was a moment where Ned stared at Peter, and Peter wasn’t sure if he would be forgiven.

“I really didn’t mean anything by it,” Peter added.

“You didn’t keep it from me because I’m too boring and puritanical?” Ned said finally.

“What? Where’d you get that idea?”

“MJ said-”

Before Ned could continue to explain what MJ said, MJ cut in.

“I said your ideas about sex were antiquated and puritanical. I didn’t say you were boring,” MJ said.

“So, can you forgive me?” Peter asked.

Ned’s eyes were wide and wet, and before Peter could ask again, Ned flung himself toward Peter and wrapped his arms around him.

“I probably kind of overreacted about the Wade thing,” Ned mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. “It’s just...you’ve been so distant lately. I was worried you were trying to ghost me.”

Peter didn’t comment about the wetness he felt there.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been around much. I should have made more of an effort to get together with you two. I mean, you’re my best friends,” Peter said, squeezing Ned more firmly.

“Are you two through having your moment? This is supposed to be a gaming night, not Beverly Hills 90210.”

“Shut up, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the show!” Peter said, waddling he and Ned over to MJ.

She put up a mock fight, but he saw her grin as they both squashed her on the couch and added her into the hug. Even when they heard the tell-tale crunch of snacks being destroyed by their hug, they kept up the hug.

Another round of hugging, and a teensy bit of crying later, they were all settled on the couch.

“Hey, what was that earlier about sex, and being puritanical?” Peter asked. “Why are you so worried about that?”

Ned looked at MJ. MJ shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“About that…”

Peter swore his spidey sense fluttered minutely.

“It was just something I said about sex...in general. Nothing specific,” MJ said, very much lying.

“I just want you to know, Peter, that I love you no matter what,” Ned said, eyes still a bit glassy.

“That sounds ominous,” Peter said.

“I just mean that nothing can change the way I think about you. It took me a little bit to figure it out, but you’ll always be my best friend,” Ned continued.

Oh god, had they figured out what he did for a living? He wasn’t ashamed of it, but he also didn’t exactly advertise it. He knew strippers were looked down on. He’d learned that the hard way when the first landlord he’d met with turned him away. A lot of people had attitudes about sex workers. That’s why he told people he was a bartender.

Before Ned could speak, MJ cut in.

“Last June, Ned found a rainbow thong in your bag.”

Ned’s eyes looked like they were bulging out of his head.

“I just figured you were going to pride,” MJ continued, “but you weren’t ready to tell us you were gay. And then Ned got all weird about gay sex, and wondering how it would affect your friendship. I had to talk him down from his sympathetic gay panic.”

If Peter were a smarter person, he would have left it at that. Let them think the thong had been for pride, but he was tired of worrying how they’d react to his job.

“I’m a stripper!”

God, Peter really needed to work on his social skills.

MJ’s chips fell to the floor.

Ned’s mouth dropped open and it would have been comical if Peter wasn’t feeling so mortified.

“You said I’ve been distant and secretive. It’s because I’m not working as a lab assistant. I tried that job for like a week, but it didn’t pay well, and the hours meant I didn’t have time to keep patrolling.”

Before MJ or Ned could interrupt, Peter barrelled right on ahead. He didn’t think he could get it all out otherwise.

“May needed the money, and I was going to school, and nowhere was hiring that would pay enough for both of those things. I found a job listing on craigslist for a bar, and I thought it was just going to be waiting tables, but when I got there she asked if I had experience dancing, and by then I felt too awkward to leave, so I went through with the interview. And it turns out radioactive spider bites make you flexible on a pole, so I got the job.”

Ned made a choking noise.

“This explains everything,” MJ said finally. She picked up her bag of chips from the floor and kept eating. “I’d wondered how a lab assistant was making enough to pay all of May’s bills.”

“So you lied about your job this whole time?” Ned asked.

Peter fidgeted nervously.

“That’s it? I thought it was going to be something bad,” Ned said. “I thought you were going to say you were dying or something!”

After another round of hugging, some happy tears, and many reassurances, everyone felt better. Peter felt lighter. It was as though there’d been a barrier between him and MJ and Ned, and now that it was gone he could relax with them again. He knew there was still some damage control to be done, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with a few more game nights, and extra hugs.

“Now, can I get back to kicking my best friend’s ass at Smash Bros?” Peter asked, wiping at his eyes.

“I thought Wade was your new best friend.” Thankfully, Ned sounded more petulant than serious.

“Stop milking it,” MJ scolded, tossing a chip that hit Ned squarely in the back of the head.

**Fluff**

“I told my friends what I do.”

Wade, who was trying to fold a crane out of a napkin and failing miserably, looked up. Peter liked that about Wade; how whenever he spoke the man’s attention was on him.

“How’d they take it?”

“Surprisingly well.”

“No yelling? Screaming? They didn’t disown you for your harlottish ways?”

“‘Harlottish’?” Peter questioned

Wade gave the napkin another fold, but all he succeeded in doing was making something like the loch ness monster.

“Yeah, ‘harlottish’. As in, ‘one who acts like and/or dresses like a harlot’. As in, baby boy over here with stripper heels, and the just-barely-covering-your-balls undies. You a thot, baby.”

Wade grinned at him.

“I’m not wearing heels right now,” Peter said, wiggling his bare feet. He’d taken off the shoes for his break, and was sitting in the back dressing room with Wade in between sets.

“Yeah. You’re not wearing much of anything,” Wade teased.

“Well, I’m sorry for offending with my...what was it? ‘Harlottish’? I’m sorry for offending you with my harlottish ways.”

Peter hopped up and grabbed the first article of clothing he could find. It was a large hoodie draped over one of the chairs.

“I guess I should cover up so I don’t continue to offend.”

Wade made a show of protesting as Peter pulled the hoodie over his head. It smelled clean, if a little like takeout. Once on, it fell just past his shorts, barely covering his ass.

When he looked up, Wade was staring silently at him.

“Um…Nevermind. I take back what I said about covering up. Go ahead and wear more.”

Peter looked down at the hoodie to see a familiar black and red symbol on the chest of it.

“Seriously? Are you just using this place as your closet now?” Peter asked. “I suppose I should change out of this, so you can get it back.”

Peter pretended to pull at the hoodie, grinning at Wade.

“Don’t you dare.”

Wade lunged for him.

Peter let Wade play-wrestle him back into the chair, before he decided to have a little fun with the man. He executed a maneuver he usually saved for Spider-Manning. It was something Black Widow had shown him once. He spread his legs, situating Wade between them, and spun, using Wade’s own body weight to toss them both to the floor, with Peter on top.

“Oof.”

Peter grinned down at Wade.

“This probably isn’t the time to mention that you’re kinda fulfilling a dream of mine right here.” Wade said, trying to gesture with his hand, but the movement was aborted by Peter’s thigh pressing down.

“Lying on a dirty strip club changing room floor?” Peter asked, looking down at Wade. He still had the mask on like always, but even through the mask Peter could see the man's shit-eating grin.

“Getting between dem legs,” Wade said, wiggling his brows. “I mean, sometimes I picture Spidey, but don’t worry, you star in plenty of my fantasies too, boo.”

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Peter hopped up.

“Ew,” Peter said, nudging Wade teasingly with his foot. Although, the thought of Wade between “dem legs” wasn’t at all a bad one.

Wade flirted. That seemed to be his thing. Deadpool flirted with anything and everything that moved. Even some things that didn’t move.

Wade grinned up at him from the floor, seeming unbothered by the dirty changing room floor.

Wade’s words finally caught up with Peter.

“Wait, Spidey?”

“Oh yeah.” Wade’s voice sounded distant, like he was caught up in his thoughts. “That bubble butt is fi-ine.”

Peter blushed.

**Identity Reveal**

Peter knew he wanted to reveal his identity to Wade. They’d grown close, and Peter trusted him. Deadpool was bound to run into Spider-Man, and then it wouldn't be long before he figured it out. Peter wanted Wade to find out through him.

As Parker luck would have it, that wasn’t exactly how it happened.

Peter was running late for work. It was faster to use his webs, and this way he avoided the crowded subway. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was thinking he could discreetly change in the alley beside the club. Maybe he was feeling too cocky. Or maybe he just wasn't thinking. Either way, he decided to go behind one of the dumpsters and change into his civvies.

His third mistake was relying on his Spidey sense. It wasn’t faulty, but it had a tendency to ignore people it didn’t see as threats. People like May and Ned. 

Apparently that list included Deadpool.

Peter pulled off the suit, stuffed it into his bag, and pulled on his pants. He had this down to a science, so it only took a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, that was enough seconds for someone to see him.

Peter wouldn’t have known if not for Rihanna’s “Rude Boy” suddenly playing from the roof. He looked up to see Wade in his Deadpool suit and mask, staring back.

After a couple more rings, Wade pulled his phone from a pouch and brought it to his ear.

“This isn’t the best time,” he greeted. “Call Weasel. He’ll hook you up.”

Wade snapped the phone shut. All the while, staring back at Peter.

“Hi,” Wade said finally.

Before Peter could stop him, Wade jumped off the building, landing in the alley with a crunch that sounded like both of his legs breaking. Peter winced when they cracked again as Wade stood up.

“You’re Spider-Man,” Wade said finally.

Peter couldn’t tell from his tone of voice if he was happy or angry.

“Would you believe me if I said it was for a cosplay?”

“A cosplay that you had to change out of in an alley?” Wade prompted. At least he looked amused.

“I was in a hurry. I just came from a convention.”

“Which convention?”

“It’s a new one. You haven’t heard of it,” Peter said, like an idiot.

“So you’re coming from some new convention I haven’t heard of, and you changed in an alley. Why not the dressing room?”

Peter winced.

“This isn’t working is it?” Peter asked.

Wade grinned like the cat that ate the canary, and then the canary’s whole family.

“I can’t tell if it’s pathetic or cute how bad you are at lying,” Wade said. “I’m amazed you’ve kept the spandex thing a secret so long when your best excuse is some ‘convention’.”

“Hey, you try coming up with an excuse on the fly!”

“I can think of at least three good excuses off the top of my head. The suit’s a weird sex thing, and you didn’t want to be seen in it at work. You’re into exhibitionism and superheroes,” Wade counted them off on his fingers as he spoke. “You’re part of an organization dedicated to Spidey, and making sure his secret identity remains a secret, so you and others pretend to be him in various locations in New York. You lost a bet. You-”

“Okay, fine! I’m a bad liar,” Peter said. He crossed his arms and resisted the urge to pout. “Usually it isn’t a problem. My Spidey sense warns me if someone’s watching,” Peter defended.

“Well, clearly your ‘Spidey sense’ needs some work.”

“It’s your stupid fault,” Peter said, prodding Wade’s chest with a finger.

“My fault?”

“Yeah, you don’t trip my spidey sense, so it’s your fault.”

“Oh my god!”

Peter jumped at Wade’s sudden yell.

“What?” Peter glanced around, expecting to see Doc Ock or someone dangerous.

“I’ve seen Spidey’s butt!”

Before Wade could yell anymore about Peter’s secret identity, Peter dragged him through the back door of the club and on to the dressing room. After a brief discussion about secrecy wherein Wade crossed his heart and promised to stab himself in the eye if he gave away Peter’s secret, Peter knew he wouldn’t have to worry about his identity getting out again.

Meanwhile, Peter changed into his work clothes and put on some make-up. All the while, Wade watched him. Peter was used to his staring, but he wasn’t usually this attentive.

“Is there something on my face?” Peter asked, catching Wade’s eyes in the mirror.

“You’re Spidey,” Wade whispered. “It’s like a dream come true.”

On impulse, Peter pressed a kiss to Wade's cheek, just beside his mouth. Wade’s mouth dropped open.

Peter blushed all the way to the stage and through most of his first set. Wade trailed after him and stayed for Peter's whole shift.

When Peter was done with work, and he wanted to burn off some nervous energy on patrol, Wade was there too.

**Wade is Deadpool**

A couple of weeks later Peter and Wade had gotten into a routine. Deadpool joined Spider-Man for patrols, and when Wade had free time he visited Peter at work. Sometimes if they were too tired for patrolling, they would crash at one of their places for video games. It was a good routine.

Then one night, Deadpool got blown up. Well, half blown up. Peter carried Wade, sans an arm and a leg back to his own apartment. Wade was dead weight, literally. He’d died on the way over, and Peter was trying to focus on getting into the apartment, instead of the fact that Wade had no pulse.

When Peter got through his window, the apartment wasn’t dark like he’d left it. All the lights were on, and Ned and MJ were in his living room, gaping at him.

“Is it Thursday already?” Peter greeted.

Ned nearly dropped his playstation, but Peter managed to web it away in time.

“That’s Deadpool,” Ned said.

Even MJ looked a little pale at the sight of Wade. It was difficult to tell if they were more upset at the missing limbs, or the fact it was Deadpool.

“I gotta get him to the bathroom before he bleeds everywhere,” Peter said.

As if to illustrate his point, Wade’s leg stump dripped again. Peter set down the playstation, and hefted Wade up more fully into his arms before carrying the man to the bathroom.

Peter heard Ned and MJ follow behind him.

“Whuh, where?!” Wade started thrashing suddenly, and Peter had to exert some strength to keep him from hurting himself more.

“Easy there, DP. It’s me. We’re at my place,” Peter said.

It took a moment for Wade to calm, but once he saw Peter he stopped flinging his arms around.

“Pete?” Wade asked weakly.

“I’m going to put you in the tub so we can get you cleaned up, okay?”

Ned and MJ gaped from the doorway, but Peter was too busy getting Wade settled in the tub to really focus on them. He’d put in a waterproof cushion in the tub after the first time Wade had healed up in the bathroom, so he set Wade with his back against that.

Peter nudged aside the many rubber duckies and novelty soaps from Wade’s trips to make room for the med kit, and started cleaning Wade’s wounds.

“Deadpool is bleeding in your bathtub,” MJ said.

Wade seemed a little more lucid now.

“Not that I don’t enjoy an audience, but who are you people, and why are you watching like this is free porn. Am I hallucinating? Spidey, do you see these people watching us?”

Peter sighed, and stilled Wade’s gesturing hands so he could keep tending to the man’s wounds.

“They’re my friends,” Peter said. “That’s Ned, and that’s MJ.”

“Don’t tell the hired killer our names,” Ned hissed.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” Wade said excitedly and then devolved into wet sounding coughs.

“Relax, Wade won’t hurt you guys,” Peter said, rubbing circles into Wade’s back as Wade hacked up blood.

“Wade?” MJ asked.

Peter winced. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Would you believe me if I said I know two Wades?”

“This is Wade?!” Ned asked.

Peter really needed to work on his lying.

  
  


Once Wade’s wounds were wrapped, and he was in clean clothes, Peter moved him to the couch. Ned and MJ dragged the fold-up chairs from the kitchen into the living room to sit on, seemingly so they wouldn’t have to sit near Wade.

Peter settled himself on the couch with Wade’s head on his lap. He knew Wade sometimes got anxious after a big fight like that, and Peter wanted to be right there when he woke up.

“So, this is Wade?” MJ prompted.

Peter wracked his brain for an excuse or a lie, but he was coming up empty. It had been a stressful and upsetting night, and even though Wade was breathing now, he hadn’t been earlier.

“This is Wade,” Peter said finally.

“Wade is Deadpool,” Ned said, looking like someone had smacked him in the face. “Deadpool is Wade.”

Peter watched MJ look around at the knick-knacks and gifts strewn about his place.

“Huh,” MJ said.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, very rough. Open-ended. I was pressed for time, but I might do some extra stuff for this in the future. I just needed it done in time for this round of Spideypool Bingo.


End file.
